See you in a crown Mormor one-shot
by SundayDutchess
Summary: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran, one-shot, explicit.


"Sebastian! SEBASTIAN!" James Moriarty thundered through the mansion. He stomped through the hallways, nearly planting his feet in the ground. He was always, _always_ under his feet, except when he absolutely needed him. His servants shied away from him quickly, afraid to get hurt. Jim liked that power. Their fear was his power. But not now. Now, he needed Sebastian Moran and he couldn't find him. He wasn't in the kitchen, not in the cellar where they kept the guns, not in his room, nowhere. He'd texted him several times, but there was no answer. He had to be here, though.

"SEBASTIAN!" Jim roared again. He went to the lounge, but it was unlikely that Sebastian would be there. No, not there either. Fine. Jim had never realised that having an enormous mansion would have consequences, such as not finding your staff. Jim huffed in annoyance, then he gave up. He'd just had to do it himself then.

He stomped up the stairs, scowling at the servants he passed on his way, which nearly tumbled down the stairs of fear. It was good to be feared. It kept them here. It kept them alert. That was the way it should be, because this was his castle and he was king. He didn't remember the staircase being so long and high, but then everything seemed out of place now. He walked to his room, or rather quarters since his room existed from a bedroom, bathroom and a lounge. It was an apartment in a mansion.

He aimed for the big, black, wooden, polished door and kicked it open. It banged against the wall and swung back, nearly falling out of it's hinges. Jim stopped it with his hand to prevent it from hitting him in the face. He had found Sebastian.

Sebastian stood in front of the mirror, and a bright object hit the floor with a loud clang. Jim's nostrils flared, his jaw was clamped so tight his cheeks hurt and his face shone a bright red. Sebastian stood with his arms still stretched out, failing to reach the falling crown.

"Fuck." Sebastian muttered. Jim crossed the room quickly, slamming the door shut behind him. Jim stood before the taller man, smoke nearly coming out of his nose and ears. For a moment, Sebastian swore he could see it. Jim's eyes shot fire.

"Fuck? That's it?" Jim raised his eyebrows. He straightened himself, regaining his posture. He tugged at his prized Westwood jacket, removing the wrinkles. Sebastian seemed startled, but not scared. The only employee… No, the only person _ever_ that didn't fear him. The corner of Moran's mouth were just a hair away from smirking. He was alert, but not tensed.

"Fuck… this?" Sebastian offered. That was enough.

"GET OUT!" Moriarty roared suddenly. His tiny frame didn't support his dangerous character. He stood on the tips of his toes and still Sebastian towered high above him.

"No." Sebastian crossed his arms. The crown had slowed down and rocked back and forth just a little now.

"What were you thinking? Hey, let me put on the **boss'** crown?!" Jim's face contorted completely and Sebastian swore it was somewhat spastic.

"Sort of." Sebastian raised his chin a little, defying Jim completely. Jim lowered himself a little by leaning on his heels, knowing he wouldn't win this height-fight. He too, crossed his arms. His mouth formed a thin line.

"Pick it up." He hissed. Sebastian did, indeed, pull at the corner of his mouth, smirking, but he still stepped aside, bent down and picked it up. Jim bit the inside of his mouth to avoid embarrassing actions. He might just laugh, cry, rant, lose his self-control completely. Sebastian seemed to keep his knees straight as he bent down on purpose, practically waving his ass in front of Jim. Jim tapped with his foot impatiently. He barely concealed his grin as he stood up. He bowed far too deep, presenting the crown on the palms of his hands. Jim didn't take it.

Sebastian looked up and saw Jim still frustrated.

"Wh-"

"Put it on." Jim instructed. Sebastian looked flustered, and he opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by the hard slap of the back of Jim's hand on his cheek. On of his hands shot up to his face, to the place where Jim had slapped him moments ago. He frowned and inhaled deeply.

"What-"

"You heard me perfectly well." Jim readjusted his arms, still crossed over his chest.

"You _want_ me to-" Another cold, hard slap against Sebastian's face. Sebastian eyed the crown warily and his eyes darted from Jim to the crown and back. When he saw Jim's arm reaching back again to lash out, he quickly brought his hands to the crown and placed it on his head. He sported a crew cut, so the hair on top of his head stuck out over the crown rebelliously. Sebastian raised his head elegantly, like a king._Oh god._

Sebastian looked… royal. Like he had worn a crown all his life. He seemed taller than ever. Elegant. Firm, and strong. A leader.

Jim knew better, but now…. _What if…_

Sebastian stared at Jim, suppressing the urge to ask whether Jim was alright. Then Jim shifted, changing his posture. Jim only did that when he had to obscure… _An erection?_ his mind supplied. _James Moriarty was aroused._ Nothing new there, but he always imagined Jim to have the libido of a teenager and that he was the only willing or worthy employee to fulfil his needs. But now was a different story entirely.

"What- What are you staring at? You look like an idiot, moron." Jim huffed. He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. Sebastian smiled down at him. Let's see how far he could push his luck…

"Shut up, peasant."

Jim swallowed thickly, staring at Sebastian wide-eyed.

"Good. Kneel, peasant." Sebastian smiled arrogantly. He expected Jim to shout again, tearing the crown off his head and firing him. But Jim knelt. Professor James Moriarty, knelt for his assassin. The roles were reversed. Sebastian looked down on the perfect, soft, short black hair that hid Jim's embarrassed face. Jim stared at Sebastian's feet, which were now not too far off his face.

"Now, now. What did you call me again? That wasn't a question. You only speak when spoken to. Ah, you called me something that somewhat resembled my last name. Moron." His mouth formed perfect o's when he pronounced that last word. He was mocking Jim. Something he would normally not even dream of.

"_And_ and idiot. I'm not sure I'm okay with that. In face, I think… Look at me." Sebastian instructed. Jim didn't dare move anything but his head, staring Sebastian in his eyes. Expectantly. Sebastian weighed his words.

"I think… that you. Should. Be. Punished." Jim's eyes widened with each word, until his eyes couldn't get any blacker. Was it fear? Excitement? Lust.

Sebastian bent down a little, placing his hand harshly under Jim's chin, forcing Jim's neck into an uncomfortable manner.

"I think you should be punished. Care to comment on that?" Sebastian hissed. Jim swallowed thickly.

"Y-yes." Jim gazed upwards, past Sebastian. Sebastian shook Jim's head violently, forcing him to look at him again.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir." Jim whimpered. Sebastian let go of Jim's neck and worked his belt. He unclenched it and unzipped his fly slowly, deliberately. Jim looked at his hands. Halfway through Sebastian's handiwork, he stopped. He folded his hands behind his back, trousers half undone.

"Why don't you do it, peasant?" Sebastian enjoyed this. Thoroughly. Jim forced his hands to Sebastian's waist, his hands trembling as he undid Sebastian's pants. Of course, they had both noticed their increasingly large bulges. But Jim knew what was coming. Sebastian unfolded his hands and grabbed the rim of his shirt. Jim thought that he was relieved for a moment, but Sebastian didn't take over. He just pulled his shirt over his head, careful not to knock the crown off. Again.

Jim cautiously pulled Sebastian's trousers down. His senses were working overdrive. His mind told him to get up and run, run away. But Sebastian's gaze held him in place. He didn't fear what was coming, yet his hands trembled with fear.

The trousers revealed Sebastian's black Calvin Klein underwear, the ones Jim had given him a dozen of on his birthday. Or was it for Christmas? Jim couldn't think anymore. His attention focussed on the stain that was shining through his briefs. Barely noticeable against the black fabric and so obvious all the while.

"You know what to do, peasant." Sebastian growled. Jim's thumbs hooked around the waistband and he pulled them down to Sebastian's knees. Jim hesitated for a split second, causing Sebastian's hand to push him roughly to his crotch, with his hand on the back of Jim's head. Jim grunted, or moaned, Sebastian wasn't sure, but he didn't care.

His cock sprang free, semi-erect and throbbing. Jim's perfect, heart-shaped, pink lips opened the slightest bit to reveal his tongue. Jim reluctantly moved forward, flicking his tongue over the head of Sebastian's cock. His tongue felt like sand-paper, licking up Sebastian's pre-cum. His tongue swirled from root to tip, taking everything in. Sebastian threw his head back, moaning and grunting. He didn't remove his hand from the back of Jim's head, though. Instead, he pushed Jim down, forcing himself into Jim's mouth. Jim complied and moved his tongue up and down Sebastian's shaft. Sebastian moaned under Jim's swirling tongue. When he felt himself becoming dangerously close to release, he yanked Jim's head away from him. Jim winced as Sebastian pulled his hair, but he didn't utter a word.

"Wimp. You didn't think _that_ was your punishment, did you?" Sebastian grabbed Jim's collar and pushed him roughly over the edge of the bed. He roughly pulled Jim's pants over his throbbing erection, down to his ankles. He bent over Jim, taking his shirt with him. He trailed kisses and love bites over Jim's spine, giving each vertebra special attention. He continued over Jim's neck, turning left and he softly bit Jim's earlobe. Jim had closed his eyes and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then Sebastian bit down hard, causing Jim to cry out, but he didn't ask for Sebastian to stop. He didn't utter a word. He held two fingers in front of Jim's mouth, which was now red and swollen. Jim understood and took the digits in his mouth, and he sucked, swirling his tongue in between them. Sebastian moaned as his fingers were now covered in the thick saliva. He slowly extracted them from Jim's mouth and trailed his path back to Jim's arse that was exposed in the large room. Sebastian lay his hands on each cheek of Jim's arse and massaged it in circular motions. His fingers, still slick, made their way to the pucker. He inserted the first one into Jim's tight hole, stretching it.

When he felt Jim's muscles relax around the penetration, he slipped another in. He started to move them. First up and down, then he began to scissor them. He felt a little lump and he touched it. Jim moaned loudly. He did it again, and again, then he extracted the fingers. Jim groaned at the loss, but he knew something better would come.

Jim's saliva on Sebastian's cock had dried already, but Sebastian always had a little tube of lubrication in his pocket, just in case. It happened rather frequently that Jim needed a quick fuck, and Sebastian usually was his victim. Not that he minded, but he preferred it if Jim was thoroughly lubed. The last thing he needed was an embarrassing, tell-tale limp.

He quickly applied it to his cock with his free hand and moved forward, hesitating at the entrance. Jim needn't know Sebastian had applied the lube. Jim felt him, grabbed a fistful of sheets and curled his hands in them. He felt Sebastian's reluctance and nodded, partly to himself, partly granting Sebastian permission, even though he was in no position to do so. Sebastian nodded to himself as well. He slowly eased himself into Jim, ignoring the moans, groans and grunts that erupted from Jim. Pain and pleasure, Sebastian was the master of both.

It didn't take long before Jim's body was accustomed to the shape of Sebastian's cock inside him. Sebastian started to move up and down, then Jim's whimpers told him to go faster, harder. Jim still didn't utter a word. Sebastian thrusted into him, again and again. He felt himself build up and he looked at the moaning mess in front of him. He felt the weight of the crown on his head, which seemed to stimulate him more. Jim suddenly moved his arse back onto Sebastian's prick, and Sebastian lay his hands on Jim's hips, pulling him onto him. His cock found Jim's prostate and he hit it. Jim cried out, wanting to scream Sebastian's name, but he had ordered him not to utter a word, so he wasn't going to. Jim fucked the mattress underneath him and when Sebastian hit his prostate for the third time, he came. Sebastian felt the muscles relax under him and with one last thrust, he came as well. He rode out his rippling orgasm until there was no more, and he extracted himself slowly. He tried to stand up straight behind Jim, but it took a lot of effort maintaining his posture.

"Turn around." Sebastian ordered. His voice had gone raspy, and husky. Jim pushed himself up on one side, rolling awkwardly on his back. Sebastian stepped forward, manoeuvring his right leg between Jim's legs. Jim had a smug smile on his face, which evaporated as he felt Sebastian's leg against his deflated cock. Sebastian leaned down, placing one hand beside Jim's ear, and whispered about three inches from Jim's face.

"You don't want to mess with me, boss. Lesson learned? Permission to speak again."

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Sebastian pushed himself up with the last of his strength, turned around, grabbed a bathrobe from the peg and he strolled out of the room, shutting the door behind him quietly. He was still wearing the crown, which surprisingly matched his red and purple bathrobe. He had left his clothes on the floor, probably the tube of lubrication too, betraying him. But that didn't matter. He shared a knowing smile with the head-servant, winked, and went to his room. He had heard a few muffled sniggers behind him, but he didn't matter. He had swayed his lips exaggeratedly, and strutted away.

He let the robe fall to the floor and placed the crown gently on the nightstand, smiling smugly at it, as if it had been a spectator. He fell on his bed and closed eyes, to drift off in a deep, long sleep.

An Irish midget might have accompanied him halfway through it, but who knows?


End file.
